


Everything You Want

by zulu



Category: House M.D.
Genre: 08-09, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-28
Updated: 2008-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/zulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Say it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 5.02, "Not Cancer".

**Everything You Want**

"Say it."

"This--is stupid."

House shakes his head mournfully, looking up the length of Foreman's torso. His stomach quivers lightly with each quick breath, his arms tensing as he grabs at the sheets. "Wrong," he says, and grins against Foreman's cock, tracing his tongue lightly up to the head. He considers the bitter taste at the tip, then sucks deep and hard for as long as it takes to make Foreman groan. It takes longer than he expected, but Foreman's neck is corded and his teeth are gritted by the time he finally lets out the sound he'd been holding in.

"_Fuck_ you."

House considers that seriously, but: "Nope." His next trick involves a slick finger, rubbed insistently along Foreman's perineum and then inside. He twists his finger, reaching up and forward, in circling, teasing thrusts. Foreman's face twists and his body arches off the bed. It's fucking gratifying to see, and House nearly loses track of the _point_ of this little exercise as he watches Foreman gasp for air and refuse to admit that House has driven him to the edge of orgasm and it feels fucking fantastic. "Say it," he repeats, nearly hypnotized by his own handiwork. If Foreman could see himself, he'd despise House even more than he already does (or doesn't, but that thought doesn't bear examining). He's completely exposed, his eyes closed and his mouth open. Nothing of the stuffed-shirt professional. No fancy suits and pastel ties and amused condescension. If he's even listening to the desperate sound of his own voice, he doesn't care. His muscles contract and relax as House works his finger deeper and his voice cracks when House finds his prostate and slips the pad of his finger across it.

"Ah--gonna come--"

"Are you?" House pulls his finger back, reaches for the lube again, this time spreading it over his entire hand. "I don't think so." He bends back to his interrupted blowjob, but it's deliberately too light, too fleeting. Tongue only, one hand wrapped around the base of Foreman's cock, squeezing but not stroking. "Not until you say it." He smirks, and then swipes Foreman's cock with his stubble. Foreman nearly bucks him off, yelling hoarsely. House soothes the burn with his mouth, finding a rhythm between his palm and his tongue, ducking his head back when Foreman tries to thrust upwards. "Say it," he murmurs once more. It's too low to be heard and Foreman's too far gone to be care, but this time House knows he'll get what he wants.

It's the hottest thing he's seen in years, the instant when Foreman _breaks_. "You're right," he says. "Jesus, you're right, God I hate you."

House pushes his own hips against the bed, his neglected hard-on throbbing at the sound of Foreman's voice. "Yeah," he says, and this time he uses two fingers, pushing them in, nearly moaning at the slick sounds of his thrusts as he rubs Foreman's prostate again and sucks his cock at the same time. When Foreman comes, House pulls off and massages every last drop out of him, fingerfucking him until Foreman's body starts shaking and he pulls away.

House grins, lying back. He feels ten feet tall, and he sprawls across the bed, taking every inch that Foreman hasn't. "Told you it'd be hot."

"You were right," Foreman says, and just that quickly all that smugness is back as if House never sucked it out of him. The sound of the words seems to grip House's chest in a warm, terrifying vise. Foreman's voice is low and amused, and it's almost as good as the feel of his hand, his mouth. House licks his lips, reaching for his dick. Foreman rolls onto an elbow and watches him, one eyebrow raised. "You actually like hearing it that much, don't you?"

"Shut up. Busy." House closes his eyes and strokes himself, both ignoring and enjoying the heat of Foreman's body beside him. He's close, close. Doesn't much care about Foreman any more.

"God, your ego's incredible." Foreman chuckles, and whispers it again: "You were _right_."

House's hand squeezes around his erection faster than he can think, and his breath hitches in his throat. Foreman's turned the tables on him, driving his arousal higher with the words alone. By the time he finally _touches_, House is more than ready, and he comes almost as soon as Foreman's hand wraps around his dick. His orgasm feels like it's going to smash him to pieces, and he knows it's the most dangerous thing he's ever felt, because Foreman's words are still resounding in his ears: "Yeah, I liked that. You were right."

_end_


End file.
